


My Burden is Fluff

by anxiousartichoke



Category: OneShot (Video Game)
Genre: A whole lot of angst, Fluff without Plot, Multi, Reader Is Not God, Someone stop me, a whole lot of awkwardness, angst is VERY PRESENT HERE TOO, short story collection, stories will have individual tags, why have i done this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-04-14 11:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14135355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiousartichoke/pseuds/anxiousartichoke
Summary: A collection of short character x reader fanfics, focusing more on interaction and moments.I take requests! ♥





	1. Why, Dad. (Cedric/Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> to the people who subscribed to me for undertale shorts: i know its been like 2 whole years but im SORRY kdjfhgjdg
> 
> please direct all requests to my tumblr here - http://princetoflamps.tumblr.com/ask

You were exhausted. You'd been at university most of the day, between working on group projects nobody else had the time for, and catching up on everything else. Walking the few miles back to your apartment in the jungle of city alleyways felt more like a death march under the weight of books. You leaned against a wall to catch your breath, when something caught your attention. Something rustled in the halflight of the street, followed by footsteps. You inhaled, squared your shoulders, and continued to walk to your door with an aura of overconfidence that'd rival a philosophy major with an opinion. The steps continued behind you and stopped again. Then... pen scratching...? It was too dark to write by, who could it have-- 

You turned around at the same time as whoever the figure was to be standing over you, hand reached out. You were whiter than a sheet and frozen in place. The figure seemed equally as confused on what to do, but managed to break the silence first. They pointed to themself, returned their journal to their side, and lifted their hat up. Golden eyes...? "Good evening, I did not mean to scare you-- Wait-- Please hold on--" 

Before they finished, you sighed. You turned around and let yourself into your house. You grabbed a lantern and _then_ decided this was worth dealing with. The man was towering in height, with lanky limbs he never grew into. He wore a brown peacoat buttoned over a suit and yellow tie. Paired with an out of place aviator's hat, he was a walking disaster. But at least you recognized him in the better lighting.

"...Hi, Professor." You blinked up at him, and he tilted his head back down as if he were internally narrating your features. He taught both creative writing and building AI. You were, unfortunately, in both of his classes. Worst of all, you _enjoyed them._

A few minutes passed of silence, and the dead inside stare-off continued. You sighed again. "Did you need something, or...? And how did you get here anyways, it's an hour long walk and you didn't leave when I did." 

He shook his head as if he'd gotten lost in his own thoughts. "Oh, right. Yes, I have my ways. I also have a request." 

"Yeah, and I have homework in your classes already. What more do you need?" 

"Well, you see, I have a son--" 

Your hand shot halfway up before you realized you were, in fact, not on school grounds, and could say whatever you wanted. "What? _You?_ Kids?" 

"Why yes! I have two, and I built them myself!" He smiled cheerily, reaching into his coat for something in a pocket. Realizing he didn't have whatever it was on him, he cleared his throat and went back to his words. "...My son doesn't leave the house much. He doesn't have any friends besides his sister and, it is because of this he is.. not very adjusted to people. Seeing as the two of you share many common interests, and are around the same age, maybe the pair of you could get coffee or something. Together." 

You felt, then and there, like going back into your house, closing the door and locking it, but you for some reason stayed. And you thought for a moment. You put your hands together and awkwardly rested your chin on them, before pointing at him. "You cornered me, one of your students, in a dark alleyway, in front of my apartment, to personally request I go on a blind date with one of your kids who I am /just/ learning about the existence of, for real. There's no camera or prompt or code to make based off of someone. You're, like, actually doing this? What kind of fanfiction do you think this is?" If you sounded bitter, you didn't mean to. You were more confused than anything.

He took a step back. "Perhaps it was... better planned when I wrote it down rather than in action. In any case, though, I do think the two of you would be great friends. You could probably use the companionship as well. I do not remember ever seeing you talking with any of your classmates." 

Direct attack! "I'd talk to them if they actually did their portion of work." You huffed. "But, if I say yes and meet the guy, I want a week extension on the final paper." 

"People working together pleasantly is, in itself, fiction. However, that is very doable, and I am very happy you are doing this for me. I will have everything set up and give you more details before tomorrow's class, alright?" He looked happier than ever. 

"All.. righty then. Oh, um, what's his name, by the way?" 

"Cedric!" 

"Noted." You gave him a wave and walked down the stairs to go inside, but he was still standing there. You turned back and waved at him again, this time more dismissively. "See you tomorrow, Professor." 

"Farewell." With a smile, he tilted his hat back down over his eyes, and disappeared into the alleyway. 

You went inside and slumped against your door, still processing whether that had actually happened, or you were dreaming it. In dreams, didn't you usually wake up if you went to sleep...? You crawled under the blankets and accepted the day as over.

Unfortunately for you, you only woke up the next morning. There was no dream sequence or coming out of the nightmare. You rationalized it quickly, though. It would be an awkward discussion about phosphor and the recent solstice day celebration over coffee, and then you'd go home and forget each other existed. At worse case scenario you might be gone an hour AND you got a paper extension. You survived a similar situation once and you will again. That day, you received a note as expected from the addled professor. Reading it over several times made it somehow /lose/ coherency, but you got the jist. You were going to meet by the west entrance of the Glen that afternoon, with the ominous words of 'you'd recognize him when you saw him.' You weren't too sure what that meant, but you didn't have time argue it. 

However, you did loiter around the gate for about half an hour before someone else showed up. He had a strange hat with a white feather sticking out of it, fluffy white hair, and thick, square glasses. His eyes were green like the phosphorflies, and his outfit far too nice for the occasion. A wave of uncertainty washed over you. You expected a _nerd_ but he was _actually cute?_ This was a crime. You chalked it up to having low standards and waited for the worst.

You made eye contact for a moment, then both of you looked away. You gave him a once-over while his gaze was elsewhere, but when it turned into a contest, you decided to do the adult thing and say hello first. This was, naturally, a mistake, which the universe predetermined already, but. There you went anyways. "Um, uhh, ahh... Yo." You waved. First impression: already going well. 

He wandered over and tilted his head at you. "Nice afternoon, is it not?" 

"Yeah, it's, um, cold though. I never expect it to be cold past Solstice Day. The sun is nice though." 

"Ah, so it is you, then.” 

“Um--” 

“I was told to look for someone wearing dark clothes and, isn’t the best at smalltalk. That must be you! No offense?” The boy was the kind who closed his eyes and had a wide smile, and you accepted your fate. You were sold. This boy was yours now.

“I really can’t argue with that, actually. That’s me in a nutshell.” You laughed.

He didn't seem to get that it was a self-depreciative joke, and blinked at you for a moment before proceeding. “I would like to preface the next few hours with a formal apology on behalf of my father, he is quite... overbearing, to put it lightly, and while he wants the best for my sister and I, he expresses it in strange ways." He offered a hand out, which you nervously took. You had sweaty palms though he didn't seem to notice. "I'm Cedric, by the way. Though, you were told that already." 

"It's nice to meet you, too. You make it sound like this happens to you a lot." 

He hung his head. "You are the third person I was asked to meet in this way. I didn't even wish for any of it." 

"Oh god. That... sounds pretty terrible, yeah... Um, hey, isn’t there a park around here somewhere?

“I believe so. That definitely sounds better than standing around here.” 

“I agree wholeheartedly. So, since we’re contractually hanging out anyways, what’s some stuff you’re interested in?” You shrugged. Might as well make the most of things. He motioned for you to follow him as he started walking into the city, reading all the signs. 

“I need a minute to think, so, how about you answer first?” He gave you a half-smile.

“Alrighty, so, um, I’m… in college, I want to build robots designed for accessibility purposes, I like gardening, writing, exploring places that are technically illegal to get into, science is cool, ghosts are neat... Uhh, the usual.” You had to think, too. Of course you liked more things than that, but you didn’t want to come on too strong. 

The boy looked at you quizzically for a moment, stopping on a corner and looking around. Finding the place of interest, he took your arm before crossing the street. “That sure is a lot. I am… not sure I could top that.” 

“There’s no competition on favourites. I’m sure there’s _something_ you like doing, or just talking about. Nobody’s truly boring.” 

“I know, and there are lots of things. I just always feel so plain next to other people. I like building things and reading books and thinking about what other worlds would be like. Comparatively, I like escapism while others find their own joys in reality. It’s difficult to express that.” He sighed. Your heart went out to him then and there, but you weren’t sure how to answer. You simply stared up at him and wondered what he’d been told in the past to react that way to a simple question. 

The park entrance was unadorned and the playground empty. Most of the equipment was covered in the markings of unsupervised teenagers. You saw a circle of trees and rushed for them, more or less dragging the boy along. You sat in the grass and didn’t plan on moving the rest of the evening. He looked much more comfortable in the thicket, taking off his hat and leaning against a gnarled stump. He scratched the back of his neck. “Was that… too much? I’m very sorry if it was, I’m--” 

“New to this, I understand. I used to love breaking things and figuring out how to fix them again. And reading, too… Unfortunately, when you start doing things for a grade, it really takes the wonder out.” You pouted and leaned back, staring up at the leaves. “I miss it so much but, at the same time, I don’t have the attention span.” 

“I wish it didn’t have to be that way.” 

“Me too. But, what can you do except do you what you love anyways? Once I’m out of college and working in the bot factories as leading designer, I’ll have all the time in the world! And maybe I’ll actually write my novel, and see the Barrens, and pick up where I left off in all the books I abandoned back when I was… in high school…” You stared at the ground, plucking some grass. “Maybe instead of ‘picking up’ I’ll just ‘restart’ those ones, actually. But I’ll do it.” 

He laughed, his expression lightening. “That’s the spirit. Now, you said you were writing a book?” 

“Yeah, except, I don’t have a plot, or any characters, or any real functional ideas, or much of anything. But I plan on doing it one day anyways. What about you?” 

“I.” He turned away. “Have the same problem. Every time I think of an idea, I forget to write it down.” 

“It happens to the best of us.” You had a moment of silence for every idea lost. 

Cedric was the first to speak again.“So, you mentioned earlier you like exploring stuff _and_ ghosts? Are those things connected?” 

“Oh god, I have a few wild stories, if you’d like to hear one.” 

“Enlighten me.” He sat up and leaned forward, ready to listen. 

That simple action alone was enough to make you forget _every single exciting thing that’s ever happened to you,_ and you raised a finger as you attempted in vain to remember. Finally, it struck you. “So, I have two friends named Lampy and Ling, right? And we’re fantastic at getting in trouble together.” 

“What’s Lampy?” 

“Oh, um, he’s a human and all, he hasn’t picked out a name yet. He’d prefer it if his old one was buried. So until he finds one he likes, we just call him Lampy since he’s so fascinated by lights. Ling is also a human, and he didn’t really want to go, but we're mean people and we like dragging him into our bad ideas. Now he has a job, and a life. It’s weird.”

“Ah. Continue, my apologies for interrupting.” 

“Anyways, so we heard about this one old factory that was on the edge of a city, and apparently it’s _really haunted._ Like, ‘wails of the damned,’ whole sections of machinery getting moved around, stuff like that haunted. It was built around the start of the industrial age but something about an issue with the wiring and materials caused a few injuries, a few deaths. Lots of stuff for ‘vengeful entities’ and whatnot. So, hearing this, we grabbed some lanterns and broke in. Like normal people.” 

“Is that what 'normal people' do?” He looked horrified already. 

“Probably not, all things considered. So, we get there and it’s _super_ fenced up. We climbed the fence without much problem and got inside, wandered around, had fun scaring each other and making bad decisions, but. There were two big problems with our plans. First thing, we got super lost. In this like, giant, creepy facility that people have died in. The other thing is that it was scheduled for demolition in a month-ish, so they sent over a team to make sure it wasn’t full of like, extra dangerous stuff? And we were found. By a bunch of grown adults in full hazmat suits. In like, the worst possible spot. No windows, our lights are really low, it’s bad. We’re like, ready to die and here walks in this suited up guys in pure white and reflective material into a room with a bunch of scared high schoolers on a school night -- I think it was around... Six hours into the day?” You stopped to think for a moment. “And yeah. This guy just sighed heavily like this was normal to him, called in some other guys, and we got kicked out. Aaaaaaaand told if we ever did that again it’d be waayyyyyy worse than just being asked to leave. Like, we’re talking permanent record staining. So now we make sure we fact check before we do dumb things. And let’s see, we got into this other building that was built on a portion of the bird’s sacred grounds and super haunted, and -- with permission this time -- got into this abandoned robot factory, and! Yeah! Ghosts are real and now that we’re all in university, we just _talk_ about different spots and research them rather than, like… Visit.” 

Cedric leaned back again, as if processing the new information was taking him some time. After a few moments, he raised a hand and let out a quiet, defeated, “Why?” 

“A bunch of old people said we shouldn’t.” 

“And you took that as instruction to do it anyways?” 

“To be fair, we were in high school. If it happens in high school, it can’t be held against you.” You spoke matter-of-factly. He shrugged. 

“I’ll just accept that without asking questions. I think my wildest story is I accidentally crashed my father’s flying machine once. One of the earlier versions. He was beyond livid.” He stared into the grass and sighed. “I was somewhat unscathed though! And it helped improve the design.” 

“That still sounds pretty seri-- Wait, flying machine?” You tilted your head. “I thought they were made up.” 

“I probably should’ve asked if you knew first. Though, yes, he built two. Both fully functional at letting people fly. I am still uncertain when it comes to going by myself but, I’m sure I’ll be a good pilot someday! If you were interested, I might be able to take you up sometime?” 

“Um, y-yeah, that’d be cool.” Where did your ability to string words together go? It was a mystery. You looked away. It occured to you that it was getting dark. “Do you have any other neat stories?” 

He brought a hand to his chin in thought. “I don’t think so? It is… fuzzy. I don’t have many memories from before two years ago.” 

“Oh.” There went the sound of your heart breaking. “I can understand that. There’s a lot of stuff we’re better off forgetting anyways. Just means there’s more room for better things to come.” 

“I have never thought about seeing it that way. You have an interesting take on things.” 

“When your life is the equivalent of a mean writer’s first story, you get used to things happening. The next chapter might be better or worse, but you never know until you get there.” 

He looked like he wanted you to explain further, but simply let the conversation fade into nonexist. Some wind rustled through the trees and a bell announced it was nighttime. Several robots started rushing around to fill the street lamps. You realized you’d been out for much longer than expected, but didn’t really seem to mind. 

“It got late,” he said, looking outside the thicket. A ruckus of mechanical whirring started up, much to your shared dismay. 

“Yeah, it did. I should probably start heading home. It’s a long walk.” You groaned just thinking about it. 

“Oh dear, I didn’t think about that — How far is it? Should I walk you back? Will you be alright?” He practically jumped up, expression concerned.

“No, it’s just an hour, I walk that, like, twice a day. It’s not bad.” You looked away, a little flustered. You walked out of the park together, and stared around the mostly empty streets. Everything was alight with a neon glow. 

“If you are certain. Do you have a phone at home? Or something?” 

“Yeah, and a computer!! Um, hold on, do you have something to write with?” 

“Always.” He pulled out a slip of paper and scribbled a number down. He passed you a second one and his pen. “I know we just met and all — and in… unfortunate circumstances, but I would appreciate it greatly if you gave a call once you got home. S-so I know you got back okay.” 

“Oh, uhh, yeah, I’ll.. um… Do that!! There’s no need to worry about me!! I’ll be fine!! And it was nice to meet you!” You exchanged numbers and you started back towards your house, him staying behind to watch you disappear. 

You thought he was strange, of course. How he spoke almost mechanically and didn’t seem to stick to one style of talking. But, then again, he _was_ a shut-in nerd. You went over your interactions a few times before deciding you were more interested in talking to him again, while also loudly cursing your professor with every evil word you could think of. You arrived home well past the eleventh hour of the night. You nervously dialed the number you were given for of course, the man himself to answer. 

“Did it go well?”

“Screw you, professor. But, also thanks.”

“I will take that as a yes and pass along you got home safely. Good night, now.”


	2. Day Off (Plight/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lampy and Reader spend their first day together in a long time.

It wasn’t often you and Plight had days off to start with, much less at the same time. You were confined between Kip’s office, being her personal assistant and all, or the library, fetching different books and sifting through some of the Author’s notes. When the sun went out, the lamplighter’s hours quadrupled. Even with the help of bots, he was needed for everything from keeping the city lit to being a specialized mailman for the scientists. You were both used to the loneliness and had your own ways to work through it – the constant busyness certainly helping – but more than anything, you wanted to see each other again. 

After all, the world already ended! It wouldn’t be a bad thing if you were to switch around some things in the scheduling book, would it…? 

You adjusted your scarf and waited for the elevator to come up. You’d been standing at the top of the skywalk for quite some time now, never really stopping to notice how cold the world had gotten. You didn’t let it bother you for long, though, as the doors opened and a very tired, messy lamplighter shambled out. He looked much smaller without his hook and jars hanging off of him, you thought. He also looked so much older as he noticed you staring at him and rushed over. He had his hands behind his back and you felt like you came unprepared. "Good morning, stranger,“ he said. His voice sounded like gravel, as if he’d just woken up from a century-long sleep, though his eyes betrayed that was not the case. He knelt down and offered out a big bundle of pink and red flowers. He managed to look more flustered than you did. “I… I was told to give these to the cutest person in the Refuge.”

You didn’t move, completely speechless until it occured to you that _you should probably move, take them, say something?_ “Oh, that’s.. me.” You dumbly stumbled out. Your inner mind facepalmed as you took the flowers and stared down at them, and then at Plight, and back to the bouquet. He chuckled at your reaction and pulled you in for a hug. Neither of you were capable at handling gifts and that was a fact you both realized early. Having contests over who could out-fluster the other were common.

“It’s nice to see you, too, sweetstuff. Did you sleep well?” He kissed your head and released you. You clung to his arm, leaning against the railing of the catwalk and staring at the city below.

“I… kind of forgot to. Again.” You hung your head.

The man sighed, free hand covering his face. “H-.” He paused, trying to get the words together. “How? How do you manage?” 

“A better question is how do _you?!!_ It’s only been, like, four days, so I’m fine!! I’ve been pretty busy, though… The last patch for some of my bots has been screwing with them. I think I missed a bracket somewhere when I was updating their companionship functions and it’s too late to recall it.”

“How does just missing a bracket mess up everything?” 

You stared up at him, meeting his still-twinkling eyes with your own, much more dead inside ones. “God, I wish I were you.” 

“Uhh..” He scratched the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly. “Programming sure sounds… awful.”

“It’s the worst.” You shuddered. "The bright side is we’ll only dealing with one apocalypse at a time, there won’t be a robot uprising on top of the darkness.“ You shrugged it off. The three laws of robotics were there for a reason, right?

He released the tension in his shoulders, as if the thought caused him extra stress. "Okay, that’s a good thing. One problem at a time.” 

There was a long, albeit comfortable break in conversation. The only sounds were the rustling of wind and the strange, albeit common commotion of squares. It felt safe there, just like that, but you felt like you shouldn’t waste the time with silence. “What about you, though? Have you done anything cool lately?” 

He looked unprepared for the question. “Oh, the usual. There’s a lotta things that need fixing these days and nobody out there specialized enough for it. Another two of my bots were eaten by squares, so I had to add another few miles to my route which is…” He stopped to catch his breath and think for a moment. “Awful. Yeah. And I learned something I feel nobody should have access to under any conditions.” 

“Oh..?” 

“Did you know the library has a basement? Like, an entire basement. It’s set up like a bunker in case of world collapse or something and I swear it’s haunted. But, like, they also keep it lit up for some reason.” 

“…But… why?” You blinked, letting go of his arm and deciding to place it around your shoulders instead. 

“I don’t have a clue, hon. Though, the ‘end of the world’ thing has been going on for like, three years now. That’s… probably why, actually. That’s a much simpler answer than the conspiracy I’ve been piecing together and I feel kind of dumb about it now. Nevermind me.” 

“Do you remember how to get in there?” 

“I treasure our relationship and time together but not enough to help you break into yet another strange place. Remember how we got in trouble last time?” His tone was flat, expression deadpanned. 

You remembered, and you cringed. “…I… yeah, I don’t wanna talk about it. Let’s just. Not.” 

He laughed again, it sounding much more genuine. "Why don’t we just… get some coffee and think of a better plan there?” 

“That… sounds ideal.” 

Despite making grand plans on how you’d spend your day off, the pair of you managed to spend most of it accidentally napping together. At least it wasn’t time wasted.


	3. Party Favours (Plight/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very fun anon request of one of my favourite tropes! :3c Nothing says 'just bro things' like faking a marriage, right?
> 
> Reader is referred to as 'husband' exactly twice, but no real gendered pronouns are used.

“‘Sup! I have a favour to ask.” The voice of the lamplighter came through the phone at far too loud of a volume, and much too fast for you to keep up with. He sounded out of breath. You looked around for a clock and sighed into the receiver. “Huh? I haven’t even asked the favour yet.”

“Plight, dear, friend, pal, buddy. Bro. Dude. Can it _wait?_ It’s six in the morning, where are you even calling me from?” You tried not to sound upset, but you definitely did. You hovered a finger over the hang up button.

“...Oh, it… is really late isn’t it. Good morning! I’m at the library right now and, what are you going to be doing in, like, two hours?” 

“I _planned_ on sleeping, though that’s not happening I guess.”

“Yeah, sorry. Something came up and its important. Anyways, meet me at -- hold on--” You heard the sound of papers, presumably him flipping through his schedule book. “Ling’s at 8:15?”

“How important is it? And you’re paying.”

“Of course. And, life or death situation. I promise.”

“If you’re sure. I’m going to keep being bitter about it, though.”

“That’s fair. See you then, okay?”

You meant to say something else, but it came out as a mildly foreboding “Soon.” before you hung up. You yawned, stretched, and decided you had the time to do whatever until 8:15. Plight wasn’t one to ask for favours _ever._ What could come up that he needed you for? And something that required a _meeting,_ which was all the more odd. You made yourself presentable to the outside world and spent the rest of the morning laying about, contemplating every possible way things could go wrong. That was the most necessary step to leaving your apartment as always. The hour came and you started over.

The cafe still wasn’t quite open -- The lights were still being tended to by a lamp bot, and Ling filling the coffee machine. He turned around and gave you a wave. “Good morning! Did you sleep well?” 

“Good morning. It.. could’ve been better. But, what can you--” You yawned, interrupting your own sentence. “Do, I guess.”

The boy looked at the grounds he measured, and added half a cup extra before setting the machine to brew. “It’s just a slow day already, I think. So, what can I get for you?” He gave you a happy smile.

“Nothing quite yet, I’m waiting for Lampy.” You sat at the counter and put your head on it. “He’s late to his own appointment again.”

“Ah… ‘Seems like you’re getting roped into this as well.” Ling laughed uncomfortably, giving you a pat on the shoulder.

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I’m just going to let _him_ explain it. The whole deal’s pretty, ahh, interesting. But if he’s on his way I should get more coffee, give me a minute.” He dismissed himself with a wave, and you, half-asleep still, waved back.

8:15 turned into 8:45 before Plight finally showed up, covered in a mix of oil and phosphor that didn’t look comfortable at all. The scent reminded you of silly string, for some reason, and sitting next to it was as unpleasant as it sounded. His hair was equally messy, half-covered by his hat, and his hook still not rinsed off of the glow. He made finger guns at you before speaking. “I bet you’re wondering why I needed you here today,” he began, not sounding too sure of himself.

“To be honest, I’m more concerned why you look like you lost a fight with a street lamp. And, isn’t phosphor highly acidic?” You tilted your head at him, trying to hold your breath. Ling passed you a mug, and Plight the remainder of the carafe of coffee, expression neutral. Same nonsense as usual.

“It is, I'm, like, dying at the moment. Anyways, the worst thing happened. I got back to my house after I talked to you and stuff, except my phone’s ringing and it’s _awful._ Like, this guy called me in a panic because one of the morning bot crew wasn’t working. And he _casually forgot to mention_ that it was an optical problem because some shitty kid threw rocks at the thing. I had to like, run out and buy some replacement glass which sucked let me tell you, _nothing_ is open until like, ten these days. And, now, I’m not the guy you ask for repairing bots, but I have two things going for me. One, I’m an idiot. Two, I’m determined. So I tried my best and! Got it to work. But I also feel like I’m melting and it was a mess and I regret not just bothering someone else about it. But the east side of the city also isn’t my problem for another day _**SO**_ I’d say I did a good job. That’s also why I’m so late and I apologize.” He hung his head. You blinked, processed his story a few times over, before shaking your head and taking a loooong sip of your drink.

“I’m not sure what I was expecting, honestly.” Ling shrugged and left you to your confused silence. “So, breakfast?”

“The usual would be great, thanks.” You sighed.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

“Good luck, you two.” He disappeared into the back, laughing again as if he knew something.

The lamplighter clapped his hands together before continuing where he left off. “Okay so back to the point. I need you to, ahh, pretend to be my husband for an uncomfortable social event?”

You narrowly avoided spitting out your coffee. “One more time with that?” You _heard him._ You _had a full understanding of what he just said._ However, you were having a hard time believing it.

He dug around in his pockets until he found a small package, and slid it over to you. Upon closer inspection, it was a maple-flavoured candy ring, and you stared at him for a _long time._ “It’s a long story.”

“Get talking, then.” You were so… done. But when it came to the lamplighter, you were a pushover at heart, so you at least wanted to hear him out.

“I’m not sure where to start on this one, uhh.” He scratched the back of his neck. “So I was being bugged by this girl at my other… other… job, and I kiiiinda panicked and told her I was married because I wanted her to screw off, except there’s a staff party like _tonight_ and now I’m expected to show up there with my supposed spouse. And, I can’t even like, get out of it. My schedule is totally clear. I don’t have anyone else I can ask except for you and I’m kinda all screwed up over it.”

“...That implies you already went and asked a bunch of other people.”

“Yeah. See, what happened, is, Kelvin said no outright, Ling is busy and y’know him, he needs two weeks notice on everything anyways. Cedric just hung up on me, Rue is a literal fox, Kip is old, too well known, and also a lesbian, and you’re, um, starting to get the picture, I hope.” He sighed heavily.

You nervously reached for his shoulder, trying to avoid the bits that were alight with phosphor. “I will help you this _once,_ but we’re going to have to put _**effort**_ into it. What’s the dress code of the party? Who’s going to be there? Will there be free food? And if we’re doing this we’re going to need legit looking wedding rings and also some fake pictures. We need to agree on an anniversary date, and some other stuff that I’m forgetting right now.”

“Speaking of food--”

Ling emerged from the back holding two plates, piled high with scrambled eggs, french toast, fried potatoes and bacon. To an average person, it’d be too much, but you dove into it before he even set it down. “Sorry it took so long, still setting up for the morning rush and all. Which should be.. soon…” The boy hung his head for a moment, before adjusting his apron and putting a happy smile on. He was truly the hero of customer service.

Plight was staring at his plate, then at you, then back to his plate. It seemed he needed a minute. You spoke first. “It’s not a problem, we’re not in a rush or anything!! But, okay, so we need a date.”

“Hm, hiking in the Glen sounds nice. Or maybe visiting the world history museum. Or, you meant like, _day,_ didn’t you.” The boy covered his face with his palm. “Why not 45-23?”

“Alrighty, so that’s our anniversary now.” You poked the lamplighter. “Still with us?”

“Just. I don’t think I’ve had this much food in a _year_ how do you do this _regularly?_ And that say sounds good, yeah. Let me--” He scribbled it down in his notebook and nibbled at the potatoes. 

“You have a problem, _dear._ ”

“I’m busy, s’all.” He pouted. “This is really good by the way. And, the… Event,” he said it with such disgust, as if saying the word _party_ would ruin the atmosphere. “Pretty straightforward. Lots of boring office people who think it’s a fashion show rather than an after-work get together where they just smacktalk their clients and drink sparkling apple juice in crystal glasses. It’s literally, like, just juice. It’s so… Tame. And boring. Anyways, the cool guys and who we’ll probably just stand around the most is the other maintenance guys who are cool as hell. We aren’t even sure why we’re invited to be honest but that makes it kind of better. So I think if we go with something that’s like, kinda flashy, but not in the ‘high class citizen who understands social cues’ area, we’ll be okay and be talked to as minimally as possible. Also if we really need to leave you can fake pass out or something.”

You brought a hand to your chin in thought. “I am a pro at being dramatic. But, for outfits, I have… Nothing matching that description.”

“And I have reckless spending habits! Guess we’re going to the mall for _two things_ today.”

“Okay but you have clothes at my house and you’re taking a shower first. I’ll even, like, do your laundry. Please dude.”

He wiped his face and his expression soured. His hand was covered in black streaks of machine oil and whatever else. “...Ah.”

The pair of you finished up, paid Ling and thanked him before crossing the skywalk into your apartment. Some hours passed before you were both ready again, but you got lots done. Enough edited photographs to fill a small album, all ready-printed and as nice looking as possible. You got a few other people in on what was happening just in case they were asked. It was above and beyond what you’d do for any other situation, but after getting over the initial shock, you realized the situation was more hilarious than anything.

You worked on getting your stories straight while you walked towards the mall. You met in middle school, were close friends through high school, but fell apart sometime around college due to conflicting dreams or something (You mostly hoped nobody’d ask you to go in _that much detail_ ) when afterwards you eventually ran into each other and started dating. It wasn’t a _lie,_ per se. The truth was definitely _stretched,_ but not beyond recognition. You held hands while wandering around store to store to practice the idea of closeness. Something was off about it, though. You’d never known him to be the nervous sort and yet his palms seemed to get sweatier, his words a little more hesitant by the hour. Even when you’d normally be bickering about this or that was met with no resistance. It was starting to make _you_ worried as well, but you didn’t want to mention it. It seemed while your acceptance was in the fun of things, he had a _very different realization._

The culmination of those anxieties passed without incident, as there were more pressing matters. Standing in front of a directory for the third time that day, a thought crossed your minds at the same time.

“How do jewelry stores even work?” He looked down at you, as if you’d magically have the answer.

“I’d imagine like any other store??”

“But, like, do you just… walk in, and say, ‘do you by chance have two plain gold bands? Here’s my card. My ring size is 10.5’? Don’t you usually need to order things ahead of time? What if they, like, _ask?”_

“That’s, um, a valid point. I have no idea.” You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, trying to laugh it off. He followed the motion.

“We need an adult.”

“Plight, we’re adults. Let’s just find a place and see what happens, okay?”

He sighed and tried to find the one he was looking at earlier on the map. “That’ll go well. Two bros, looking at gold rings for some… Reasons.”

You walked across the mall, still hand in hand, and stared into some of the outer cases of one store you stumbled across. Everything was far too glittery for your cave eyes, and the numbers high enough to make you _feel_ the crippling debt.

“What the f--.” He paused. “Heck. Is a karat? Isn’t that a troll? Why are there fourteen of them? And this one is _eighteen?_ ”

“I think it’s a measure of like, how much actual gold is in it. Since like, normal pure gold is a sucky material, they put other stuff in it so it’s not _as terrible._ It’s still pretty terrible, though. Also the troll you’re thinking of is something else entirely.”

“That’s… informative. Also, you’re a nerd.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

After wandering around for awhile and looking at everything, you both realized you had _no idea what you were actually doing_ there. You decided to settle and look elsewhere. After all, it only had to _look_ like a gold band. You only planned on keeping it on your finger for roughly four hours. You stumbled across the exact thing you needed as you’d used up all your allocated shopping time, and started back to your apartment. He happily carried everything while you walked along. The conversation was over in a comfortable silence. It was something you’d let yourself get used to in a heartbeat. Just the two of you-- _Wait._ He actually was talking and you missed it…? You shook your head as you leaned against the wall of the elevator, and the lamplighter stared at you blankly.

“Did you hear _any_ of what I just said?”

“Um,” you stared at the ceiling, then the floor. “Nope.”

“That’s fair, first of all. To recap, it starts in about two hours, and it’s a fifteen minute walk, so we have some time to sit down before getting ready and everything. You look exhausted.” He managed to keep every bag on one arm, and offered his other one out to you. You took it, despite not looking happy about it.

“I’m not used to going anywhere, since my office is right in my building. I think this’ll be the most _anything_ I’ve done for awhile.”

“You really need to get out more.”

“And do what? Bask in the sunlight?” Your expression deadpanned.

“Okay that was cold. But yeah, I remember you mentioning a few weeks ago you were pretty stir-crazy. Like, hey, maybe you could set up shop in the library sometime? And then I could, like, visit, since I end up there so much anyway.”

“I’m sure I could bother George about it sometime, depending on the day… And, next time you’re free we should lay around, watch some movies, the usual. It sure has been awhile.”

“Yeah, it… has. This is the first time we’ve actually spent together in months. Kind of strange, given the circumstances.” You both chuckled.

You unlocked your door, took off your boots, and immediately laid on the floor. It was nice to be home. Plight got to cutting tags off of your clothes and it went back to a content quiet. The whole situation was starting to feel too domestic and you were wishing for a distraction. You weren’t opposed to it, but you also didn’t want to let yourself get used to it. It was just one night and if it didn’t mean anything six hours ago, it wasn’t going to now. You looked at the clock and sighed at it, which was echoed back.

This became a contest over who could sigh the loudest, but it devolved into laughing quickly. You picked your clothes up from the pile. “We should, um, get ready, it’s almost time.”

“Oh, you’re right--”

You disappeared into your room and left him to his own devices, emerging a few minutes later. You wore brown pants, a beige shirt, dark green suspenders and a bowtie to match. You admired yourself in the mirror but the same feeling of something being off came back. You ran a brush through your hair and tried to look back, but to no avail. The more you tried to nitpick and adjust things the more awkward it felt to be in. A lot of things were like that, you thought. The more you tried to push away small imperfections the more the original picture was lost. Your mind trailed back to the man in the other room. You figuratively wiped the blush off your face and walked out to greet him. He eyed you up and down.

“It looks dumb, doesn’t it?” You deflated, staring at him. You realized you’d never actually seen him outside of his usual long coat. You wished you could’ve a long time ago. You decided to leave the mental comments there.

“No! I mean, you look… nice.” He turned away. “So I was kind of thinking, what if instead of sitting by a punch bowl for like, three hours to prove something, we actually do something… fun?”

Thinking about it, you shrugged. “Did you have any specific ideas?”

He raised a finger, then lowered it. A few seconds later he raised it again, only to lower it again. “Not yet. I haven’t gotten that far. But it’d be like, a date? If that’s cool? I mean, if it’s not then it’s fine and just forget it but I’ve been thinking about it most of the day and???” He ran out of breath and it took some effort to recollect it. “Y’know. At least I hope.”

“I’d be down for a date,” you hesitantly said, not too sure of your own words. “But, just to clarify, you _did_ ask some other people to this thing first before settling for me, right?”

He tensed up for a minute. “Don’t call it settling. But, I did, and I had a lot of fun today, and accidentally revived some old feelings? Which was… a journey in itself, and then I also decided I don’t really need to prove anything to anyone. Life is too short to stress about dumb things and if anyone decides to bother me about it, I can tell them in loud, rainbow details about the better night I had with my ‘husband’ until they regret asking.” He offered his arm out, which you linked with yours.

“That sure is a lot to come out of today.” You were happy to lean on him. You also wished, _quite a lot, in fact,_ you were better at stringing words together.

“I put in a lot of unnecessary effort to not make it weird? But then it was weird anyways, and, ahh. Let’s just go for a walk and see if we find anything interesting.”

“Sounds good to me.”


	4. Countdown (Proto/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scientist and a robot spend their final three hours together. 
> 
> Sadness warning :<

_“--Live from the Refuge, we have estimates of less than three hours before the world ends. Clouds are rolling in from the southeast and obscuring our view of the tower-- Our scientists are reporting massive earthquakes in the Fringe..”_

Proto reached over and turned the volume down on the radio. “[Strange. I don’t _feel_ the ground shaking.]” He glanced around the terminal room. When you didn’t respond, he spoke again. “[Hours left, and you’re spending it repairing my…?]”

“A few things. Your touch sensors, your sarcasm chip, and your empathy module.” You looked up at him for a moment, then back down at your work. He let out an emulated huff as if he were unimpressed by your response.

“[Do I _need_ empathy?]”

“Yes, and every time you find a new way to try and uninstall it, I'll find a way to make it twice as intrusive. And-- I can ask the same thing on why you need an entire section of personality dedicated to backtalking people.”

The robot stared at the floor, rolling his eye. “[I requested it. My father obliged.]”

The conversation ceased as you went back to work. You were trying to clean up the final pieces of code, while he turned the radio back up. A few static-filled songs passed by before you stood up and stretched. “Alright, just sit down so I can get this over with, okay? I’m going to need your diskette so I can upload this, and reinstalling your hands is going to be an awful experience for _both of us_ unless you work with me.”

He reached for his drive before something occurred to him again. “[You didn’t answer me earlier. Why are you putting the effort in? Why didn’t you leave with everyone else?]”

“It’s my job to keep you working as intended, so I’m going to do just that. I wouldn’t be comfortable dying knowing you weren’t in best shape. Besides, you… already know I don’t have anyone else out there. Right now, _you’re_ my purpose.”

“[Are you comfortable with death, doctor?]” He peered down at you, eye wide as if you were being scanned.

“Please, just sit down, you’re too tall--”

“[Only if you promise not to put _empathy_ back in.]”

“I combined it with your sarcasm chip. You can’t have one without the other now.”

He looked betrayed, and went quiet. His antennae drooped as he thought it over. His hands balled up his scarf, though, he let go of it and stared at them for a moment before sitting down. Another few songs passed between the transfer, the rewiring, and rebooting. You managed to doze off in the meantime, awaking to having your hand squeezed hard.

“Huh?--”

“[You’re softer than I remember.]”

“...Thanks?” You stared into the dim yellow light, not quite _with_ things.

“[I feel.]” Proto paused, holding up a finger. “[It’s cold here. Your bandages need replacing. Are you _absolutely certain_ there’s nobody you want me to call in our final two hours?]”

“Don’t worry about me, okay? Or anything. There isn’t enough time for that.”

He sighed, expression a mix of everything and nothing. “[Must I remind you of your current heart rate? Your injuries? Your _situation_? You spent four days paying me constant attention. Allow me to do the same for you.]”

“No, I mean it. I’m alright. Happy, even. Just like this. With the knowledge I did what I could. I don’t need anything.” You tried to give him a smile, but it came out half-hearted. He still removed the gauze from your eye and arm, trying his best to redress your wounds. You stared at him as he worked, unable to offer any physical resistance.

“[I’ll fade into nonexist knowing I was never able to complete my primary function.]”

“It’s not your fault our god never sent a messiah. After all, time waits for no one. Not even saviours. I guess... our world just isn’t fit to be saved.”

“[It isn’t fair.]” He leaned against the wall of the terminal room before slowly sliding down it, taking your hand again. He looked it over, tracing the lines in your palm. “[Do you think you did what you were made to do?]”

“I think so, to an extent,” you started, not too sure what to say. “I wanted to meet the Author. I wanted to build a robot. I wanted to write music and make at least one person happy, even if that one person was only myself. I managed to do all that. Of course I had other dreams like having my own house, starting a garden… It was never a priority, though. I’m glad I could spend the past few months in the Barrens rather than stuck in the city. So, ahh, I’d say I got… most of it done.”

“[The living are strange like that, aren’t they? You have infinite choice, freedom, nothing you’re bound by, and you’re never decisive on what you want for yourselves. Why?]”

“I think it’s _because_ of that freedom. Why aspire for something small, like just _surviving_ when there’s a whole world? It’s human nature to want to try everything, like it’s your nature to focus on the small things. I was built to _try,_ while you were built to _do._ ”

“[Would you say it’s less fulfilling that way?]”

“I suppose it is. I’ll never know what my true purpose is, or if it just passed me by without knowing. How different would things be if I stayed in the Refuge instead of coming here? How would the world be changed if I was never here in the first place?”

“[I wish I could understand your point of view. I was built to serve as an aide to whoever would save our world. I’ll never have that same joy as you when it comes to accomplishment.]”

“Wouldn’t you say part of your function is to bring hope to people, though?”

“[Technically, yes.]”

“Then you haven’t failed at all. Even if it’s one person, that’s one heart you managed to touch. One person who ended up changed by your existence. That hope keeps things worthwhile.” You put your head on his shoulder, and he awkwardly stared at the floor. Not knowing what else to do, he untied his scarf and draped it around the both of you.

“[I… appreciate the sentiment.]”

“Do you think there’s other universes out there?”

“[The multiverse theory is a strange one. But, I suppose there has to be. Why do you ask?]”

“It's conversation. That means there’s a universe out there where things went better.”

“[In what sense?]”

“Where we were saved. Where I could’ve had better parents, been more abled, made more changes. Had more friends… Done… more. I’m content where I am now, and I mean that, but, there’s still so much I could’ve reached for.”

The robot thought for a long while. “[What’s the difference between seeing a photograph and taking one?]”

“When you look at a picture, you’re only witnessing a snapshot of someone else’s experience. When you _take_ a picture, you get the full wonder. The full sights. Control of the camera that memorializes what you see around you.”

“[Would you say seeing pictures of the Glen, and being there are different experiences? Do they give you different feelings?]”

“Not… really. The Glen is beautiful, it has wonderful people, but it has its own issues. Like bugs, and mud, and more bugs.” You shuddered. “But the difference in the analogy is that I’ve been on both sides of the camera. I can imagine fame and fortune, I can read about it, write a self-insert story about experiencing it, but in the end, I’ll never _live_ that fame.”

“[You say you have everything, but in the end, you’re still equating ‘more’ to being ‘better.’ It sounds like you have more regrets than you want to realize.]”

“Greed is apart of human code, I think. As is regret. We can say we’re happy, and with true intentions, but there’s always a weight in the back of our minds that will tell some part of ourselves not to believe it. That small darkness inside all of us is materialism, bad memories, anxieties, wasted opportunities… All wrapped up in one neat little package. It lures people off the tops of skyscrapers with promises of losing it below, or others into lives of crime, hurt. It wants to keep you isolated even if in the same breath you can say you’re overjoyed. I don’t think people realize that it’s everpresent.”

“[This… weight, you’ve had on your shoulders. What could you compare it to? I don’t understand.]”

“I don’t expect you to. But, ahh, not very heavy -- maybe about the same as a glass of water. But even if it’s just one glass of water, given the time, it’ll feel like lead if you can’t set it down. But, right now? It’s gone. I think this is the first time I’ve really felt at peace.”

“[I hope there is a place out there where you can find peace more often.]”

“Me too. And if there’s an afterlife, I want the best for future me.”

“[After… life?]” 

“The belief that there’s life after death, or reincarnation. After all, energy is never destroyed. Only transferred. I think the same could be said about souls.”

“[Is there an afterlife for machines?]”

“Maybe. I hope it’s the same one that I end up in.”

“[And I hope that version of you, and me, don’t end up with the same regrets that we have.]”

It fell silent for quite some time, listening to the radio sputter out every other word of news. The signal seemed to get worse by the minute. The ground shook underneath you. Rocks caved in the mineshafts outside your terminal room. Even the reinforced ceiling above threatened collapse -- but you stayed held together. Waiting for the end and humming along to the jumbled notes of far away people trying to keep calm a populace staring into the oncoming apocalypse. Of course you were worried, deep down. The way your hands shook and your heart raced at each intermittent tremour gave that away, but neither of you wanted to mention it. Proto probably had the same fears, deep in his circuitry that was beyond his programming. But you waited. That was all you could do now. 

_“Est-mate ten--”_ The signal died altogether. You both stared at it, and the robot turned it off. The realization set in quickly --Only ten minutes left of the world.

“I’m glad I got to repair you a final time.”

“[I’m glad I could watch the end with you.]”

“I still think our world was worth saving. Even if a god doesn’t.” 

“[We could’ve been, if only we had more time. One more day could’ve been all we needed…]”

“Yeah. No matter what, though, I hope I find you again. Even if we’re just two drops of rain that fall into the same puddle, or two people reimagined in a new place. Maybe we’d be enemies, or lovers, or maybe we're destined pass each other on a busy street without ever saying a word… It might be the end of _our world_ , but it doesn’t have to be the end of _us._ ” You sniffled.

“[Are you… crying, doctor?]” He didn’t seem sure what to do.

You wiped at your eye. “A little bit. I’ll be okay, though. And so will you. Right?”

“[Of course. It’s the least we can hope for.]”

It began slowly. Once white rocks turned to black, blue screens and phosphor jars lost their lustrous glows as if all the hope in the air was draining. The earthquakes started and stopped as if the ground beneath you was rocking you to sleep, and in the end you closed your eyes and let it take you. It was like a dream; a peaceful slumber that was a nightmare for someone else’s lost time.

The version of you that was nothing but code didn’t remember Proto as he was. In fact, you’d never met him. The right circumstances never made itself clear. You spent your years doodling square robots in lab coats with bright yellow eyes but never questioned why, or who. You stayed in the city to study under Kip instead of moving to the Barrens. You did things differently, haunted by the ghost of a conversation that only existed to a previous version of you. Weightless, free, not knowing how you sat and saw the light fade out from underneath you. The Messiah came and brought back the Sun, never to be seen again.

The world stared up at the golden rays of the Tower. You looked onto the crowds of people crying, throwing hats, hugging their enemies and strangers alike and sighed, as if the ending was missing something. Why did you feel so unfulfilled…?

Glancing around, one thing caught your attention amidst the chaos. A yellow eye. A blue scarf. The figure gave you a knowing nod, and faded into the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone wants a part 2 of this, i wouldn't mind writing one tbh, it just needs to be requested :V


	5. Ghosts (Plight/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lampy tells Reader some things he really wished people told him first. 
> 
> The theme of this one is death/suicide so obviously VERY BIG TRIGGER WARNING FOR PEOPLE. Nobody actually dies, though. In fact, that's the entire opposite idea.
> 
> also sorry for two sad fics in a row >-> it's been a long week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya! so, long island was fun!! posting will be back to being every three days ish now that i'm back and i'll be back to working on requests again. the next few things will be some degree of happier :V
> 
> also i wrote this while on a bus for an uncomfortably long amount of time and while i edited it, it might be a slight mess >->

You climbed to the roof of the tallest building in the Refuge with the intention of not climbing back down. That was your plan; your will was barely a folded piece of notebook paper outlined with curses in chicken scratch as you rode the elevator up. You leaned on the tattered remains of a billboard and stared at the red lights below for a long while. Your eyes traced the ever-looming tower that pierced the world like an axis, and you fell backwards onto the roof from the vertigo. Having nothing better to do than sit, you kept watching and thinking over your decision for a long while. In truth, you didn’t want to weigh the moral pros and cons or make excuses on why it was better to, quite literally, jump ship from a dying world — you wanted to be saved. That was the thing you weren’t sure how to explain. 

You slowly stood up, will in hand, and glanced over the edge of the skyscraper again, but something new caught your attention. The metal rails of the board creaked and the paper vanished from your hand. You couldn’t discern a source but then— 

“Classy,” the voice was deep and exhausted, as if its owner hadn’t slept in years. The sound of a hat falling off of someone’s head soon followed. “I like the part where it says ‘ _Through my dark torment, I yearn to be woken up._ ’ Say, isn’t that a song lyric? Is this what kids listen to these days?” 

“Um—“ You met eyes with a rather frazzled man, his purple hair looking like it was cut with a knife rather than scissors. Weeks unshaven, covered in a few layers of dust and machine oil. He had his legs around one of the metal bars and was hanging upside down from it — it seemed he’d been sitting there for quite some time, watching. You picked up his hat and handed to him, holding out your hand for your will back. 

He righted himself so he was sitting again. A cocky half-smile crossed his features. “What? You look like you just met a ghost.” 

“Can I.. have my paper back, please?” 

“Nah.” 

“And why not?” You glared at him.

“Because you aren’t going to need it. Can you climb?” He didn’t seem to mind the situation. When you nervously looked back over the edge, he groaned and took your arm. “I’m not losing another one, kiddo. Come on, sit with me for a bit.” 

“I guess I have nothing better to do.” You found a few bars that were wide enough for a person to sit and joined him. The slight elevation already had a better view of the city, and the busy street below. It looked much further down that you realized, and you elected to look at the strange man instead. 

“So, what’s your name, kid?” He passed you a melty chocolate bar from somewhere in his coat. 

“I don’t have one.” 

“Me neither. I did awhile back but, it didn’t really fit much. Too girly for my tastes. My closest friends _used to_ call me Plight but, things happen, y’know?” He shrugged. 

“What happened to them?” 

“A better question is what happened to _me,_ if I may say so myself. Now, I prooooobably got a story for you, but you gotta answer a big question for me.” 

You blinked at him, and he elected to wave your “will” around. 

“Whatcha out writing wills and thinking about jumping off of buildings for? Take your time.” He propped his chin up on his elbow and turned towards you. He looked like he was trying to take every detail of your features in at once.

You had to think about a reason for a long while. Eventually, you mumbled out a defeated, “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” 

“...What’s that supposed to mean?” You huffed.

The man shrugged his shoulders. “Let me guess. You have a bad past that was entirely out of your control, you’re stressed from work or school or whatever, you have lots of expectations on you to do well because you were some kind of kid genius but that’s not really your speed anymore? You think that dying is your only option because of years upon years of people demanding perfection from you but now you can’t keep up but that's actually not what you want at all."

“You… aren’t wrong. Somehow.” 

“Been there, done that. I know what that’s like, believe it or not. I feel like, something they don’t tell you about wanting everything to be over is that “over” doesn’t have to mean dying, y’know? Sometimes the best way to end a chapter is as simple as closing a door. You could make things better for yourself without life being awful for the cleanup crew. Did you know actual people have to clean up bodies? That can’t be done by a bot. It’s real inconvenient for everyone involved.” 

You raised a finger as if to ask questions, but he took your hand and lowered it. “I wasn’t done, kid. Anyways though, to put it casually, you got some issues. Instead of ending it like this — and let me tell you, the elevator ride up here is ten minutes. The fall? Longer. You got other options. Even if you think you’re a lost cause.” 

You glanced over at him again, and he passed you a different chocolate bar. “Why do you happen to… have so much candy on you? And how do you know about the--“ You had more to say, but he covered your mouth.

“I’m a weird guy who hangs out on empty billboards on the highest point in the city and I’m spending my time trying to convince some rando not to jump off the deep end, and you’re concerned about the snacks I have on me?” His tone was more theatrical, sarcastic. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel the eyeroll. “I didn’t screw with it, if that’s what you’re _really_ asking. I like the stuff a lot. Now, that story— Still with me, kid?” 

“Yeah, I’m listening.” 

“Good. I used to be like you. A hurting, but good kid that turned into a scared adult. I worked hard and all — I had a key to every building in the city. I practically had free roam and I still was pretty miserable. It was all pretty braindead work and I spent a bit too much time in my own head. After all, I was supposed to do wild stuff like graduate early and become world’s biggest phosphor know-it-all because I read big kid books in elementary school. By time I realized I needed a change, I had too many expectations on me. Just hire Plight, he’ll solve your life’s problems.” His voice was filled with disgust. He took off his hat and put his head on the bar. It didn’t look very comfortable… “But I couldn't do everything people chalked me up to do. It was pretty... trapping, to say the least. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know why I was such a disappointment to myself. It got to the point where I decided it was time to do _something._ I gave up on all my jobs — I think I had like, seven at the time? Ridiculous. And I just moved in with a friend for awhile. Waited tables for his cafe to pass the time. Tried to live a little. Went back to school, got a therapist. All that good stuff. I was really trying, y’know? But that negativity, those years of nonsense got to me before the help did. Good things were up there, though, and I kept looking down. I stood in that same spot you did.” He sighed. “Maybe we don’t have the same story, maybe we do. The fact is you’re like, what, college age? Probably. Don’t answer, it doesn't matter in the end. But the fact is you can do better than this. You can still be a success story. You can do something on your own terms. The only thing stopping you right now is you and what you _think_ is expected of you. I’m sure of that.” 

You were silent for quite some time, letting his words wash in. He rested a hand on your shoulder. The lights in the city below were starting to dim. “What should I do next?”

“That’s up to you, kid. Maybe go home and take a nap. Check into a hospital or something. Do something real crazy like, I don’t know, live the life you want to, not what you feel like you’re supposed to. But you really gotta want it. You gotta need the change and not back down from it because it’s scary.” 

“That’s what I want, then. I want things to be better. I don’t know how to get there from here.” 

“Yeah, I get that. Here’s a good step one for you—“ He passed you your will. You stared at him blankly, accepting it. “Tear it up.” 

“What—“ 

“Step one. Tear it up. But some feeling into it. You’ll feel a bit better, trust me.” 

You tore at the paper with as much force as you could muster, and the pieces fluttered out of your hand and to the world below. You watched them fall, and wiped at your eyes. “I do feel a little better.” 

“Thought so. Now let’s get you down from here.” He climbed out of the billboard and stared at you expectantly. You more or less fell out of your sitting place — ladders weren’t your friend. The man took off his scarf and wrapped it around your shoulders, tying the front like a bow. It was yellow and gross and smelled like phosphor, but he looked happy with his work. You stared at him with surprise. “Step two, is you’re going to visit a friend of mine. Her name is Kip. Just show her my scarf and she’ll know what to do, alright? Trust me.”

You nodded, trying to process things. “Where can I find her?” 

“She’s probably at the library right about now, if she isn’t being held up at the factories. She’s tall, red hair, looks like a lesbian, big glasses. She can be a better help than I can. She's a real sweetie and if you ever need guidance, she's who you ask.” 

“I’ll try.” 

“No, you _will._ Say it with me.” 

“I will.” You nodded at each other. 

He helped you down the staircases, but seemed opposed to leaving the area, almost as if there was a line he couldn’t cross. He stared at the doorway back to the catwalks, and then at you. 

“This is where our hangout session stops, kid. Go take your few steps with my new, imparted wisdom, and find yourself. You’ll be fine from here, right?”

“I.. think so. Are you sure you can’t stand by the elevator with me?” 

“Nah. I wasn’t done up there quite yet.” He walked past you to go back up the stairs, but he turned and grabbed your hand. You could feel him slip a piece of paper into it. “One last thing, I promise. It’s nothing personal but, I don’t wanna see you again, kid! Not on a rooftop, not in the paper. Hell, I don’t even wanna remember you unless you’re on the news for some wild breakthrough or whatever you wanna do out there. Get out, do your thing, and keep your feet on the ground.”

You blinked at him and elected to nod and go your own way, just as he went on his. You stood on the catwalk for a long time, waiting for the elevator down, and he waved at you from up there. You waved back. You looked over what he gave you. A slip of paper with a name on it, with the note, ‘A new meaning to ‘deadname’, huh?’ You didn’t understand and wanted to ask, but when you looked up to the rooftop, he had already disappeared.


	6. Sick Day (Plight/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader has a cold and Plight tries to make them feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! sorry for disappearing! that's just how it is sometimes lmao 
> 
> i changed my tumblr url and it's princetoflamps now!! follow me for more lamplighter hubris
> 
> also this fic stems from the fact ive been sick for two weeks now :<

“I’m sorry, I’m going to have to cancel our date tonight,” You twiddled with the cord to the telephone, wrapping it around your fingers. Your voice was a low, tired croak. “I know that was like, _today,_ but I’ve caught a bad cold and I’m a bit too dizzy for going out, and it’s a whole ordeal, um, I know we’ve both been super busy lately so it’s like, difficult, um, Plight, are you—” You felt a twinge of guilt and fear in your chest. Oh no. No was not the time, anxiety.

It took the Lamplighter another minute to respond, the sound of the phone shuffling around fabric threatening to ruin your ear. “Uhh, no, I get it, I wouldn’t wanna go out like that either so like, it’s chill, hon. Do you got anyone over there to take care of you at all?” 

“No, it’s just been me.” 

“Oh damn, so, okay, instead of going _out,_ I could like, bring food over and we could play games or something?? Being alone when you aren’t feeling too hot isn’t fun.” 

“That sounds fantastic and I’d appreciate it a lot.”

“Hell yeah,” he sounded much more excited, “Do you need meds or anything? Because I can, like, get those real quick it’s not a problem—“ 

“Just some cough drops would be great.” You tried to suppress a cough but, as if to prove a point, it didn’t work out in your favour.

“Oh god, ah, the red kind, right?” 

“Yeah, red.” 

“Okay, I’m leaving work right now and I’ll be over in half an hour-ish? See you then, lovely.” 

“Okie.” You smiled into the telephone as if he could see it, and hung up. You started back towards the sofa when it rang again, and you _siiiiighed._ “Um, yes?” 

“I FORGOT TO ASK ABOUT FOOD.” Hello, Plight.

“PIZZA???” 

“OKAY SOUNDS GOOD SEE YOU SOON.” With that, it disconnected again.

Now free of the anxious clutches of the phone for real, you sat down with your box of tissues and waited. You dozed off at some point and almost missed the knock, not tuning into the sounds around you until the second, louder round. You jumped up a little too fast and had to catch your breath before opening the door.

Plight stood there, barely balancing a grocery bag and two pizza boxes on one arm, his other occupied with holding his schedule book. He looked worse for wear as well -- exhausted per usual, hair a little oily. Half-crystalized phosphor clung to his jacket and pencil lead “decorated” his shaking hands. His eyes lit up when he saw you. “Heya, stranger, it’s been awhile.”

You stared at the floor. “I know, it’s just been awful lately and--”

“Shh,” he interrupted, “Stuff happens, hon, you don’t have to worry about it, okay? For now, I’m _way_ more interested in eating a whole pizza and getting carried in Zombie Hunter 2.” He set everything down on the counter and, after a bit of effort, he was out of the confines of his gear and outerwear. He pulled you in for a tight hug and kissed your head.

Still embraced, a thought crossed your head. “When was the last time you’ve eaten?”

“Can I choose not to answer?” he shrugged halfheartedly, still not quite willing to let go.

“Plight.”

“Uhh…????”

“And how long have you been wearing your binder?”

“I’m here to take care of _you_ not the other way around--” He took a step back, looking a bit betrayed.

“Plight,” you put your hands on your hips and glared up at him.

“The light of my life, the sun to my tower, the… Yeah.”

“How long.”

“Like, a day tops? Probably less? Actually, hold on, I have it written down--” He dug through his tiny notebook. “Twenty-two hours.”

“That’s _fourteen_ too many! How are you breathing?!” You raised your voice in horror, which unfortunately triggered another coughing fit. Plight patted your back and sighed, unsure how else to help.

“Yeah… I’m like, pretty sure I’m dying actually? And I don’t have anything to do tomorrow until late so if it’s cool I’ll just kinda. Crash here? I think I still have some pajamas around here somewhere.” He shrugged. He reached for the grocery bag and passed it to you. “...Also I, um, got you extra tissues and candy just in case. And the red cough drops. And orange juice.”

“You didn’t have to do _all that,_ ” you huffed, “And check my laundry, I washed everything like, three days ago and never put it away. Y’know how it is sometimes.”

Plight took off towards your bedroom and stopped when he reached your door. “I know I didn’t _have to,_ but, like, I wanted to. And besides, you’d do all this for me, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d love to, if you ever took breaks when you were sick.” You pouted in his general direction.

“You… got me there. But hey, just means it’s worth it.”

While he was changing clothes, you dished up pizza and put away the juice. Setting up the TV for gaming with your less-than-stellar wire management was quite the ordeal, probably closer to bomb diffusing than trying to match the red AV cord to the red circle, but you managed. You fell back on the sofa to recollect your breath.

Plight came out of your room in purple PJs, slumping next to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and you cuddled into his chest. You stayed like that for a few minutes in silence, enjoying the moment.

You broke it first. “I’ve missed this a lot,” you sniffled.

“Me too, hon. So much it’s criminal. And like, you’d _think_ that after being told our world’s going to be like, _literally gone_ in five-ish years when we run out of fuel people like architects wouldn’t have anything to do, right? People would be like. Bunkering down and just chilling out instead of blowing millions on renovating whole skyscrapers into penthouses or making a last ditch effort to fill the Glen with humans and concrete. But no! That’s what they’re out there doing!”

“I mean, in the face of the impending apocalypse, I’d want to be crying and watching the end come from a comfy penthouse apartment rather than like, the ground.”

“Yeah, you got a point, but like. I hate working with rich people. Being just a lamplighter? That’s alright, because I don’t need to talk to anyone. Working maintenance and contract work is like. Low levels of talking to people. It’s just like,” He put on a lower, gruffier voice, “I’m Mr. Important City Official and I don’t know how to change an air filter, can you do it, mr. maintenance dude?” He coughed and put on a slightly higher voice. “Of course Mr. Important City Official, I can also show you _how to_ do that, if you want me to.”

“I feel like they always say they don’t care?”

“And you would be _completely_ right. End of conversation. A task was presented. But anyways. Being an architect is like. A _profound_ level of talking to people. It sucks. Because it’s only like, mean rich people. And you _have to_ be nice to them even if they talk down to you. And you still have to design nice things for them. It’s actually garbage.”

“I know how it is, yeah. And what’s worse is they never want to actually like, pay for anything? Something I get a lot with commission work is like, sir, I am _building you_ one whole artificial intelligence. That’s basically three steps away from making you a _whole person._ And you want like, nineteen features. And you want me to design and build the robot body. And you think _a thousand_ for all that is going to be enough?” You pouted and hugged closer to him.

“Yeah!! What is _up with that??_ It’s just a _whole thing.”_ He sighed.

“It really is and it doesn’t have to be! Don’t hire people if you don’t wanna work with them on stuff.”

“Also hon, offtopic and all, but our food is like, super cold by now.”

“Oh right, um, it… probably is. Whoops.” You moved over into your own seat. Sure enough, the pizza had seen warmer days, but it wasn’t a pressing issue. Despite being upset with Plight earlier about not remembering to eat, you probably could’ve taken your own advice a few hours before.

From there, you started up an action-packed game about slaying zombies with ridiculous energy swords. Keeping up became a chore, the melee dizzying, the whole thing requiring a bit too much concentration. It was just that kind of day, after all, and after about three rounds of near-failure, Plight paused the game and patted you on the head.

“Hmm?” You looked up at him.

“Doing alright still?”

“I’m a little too tired for this I think, that’s all. If you wanted to play something single player I’d love to watch you.”

“That’s not a problem. Um, hey, what’s that game you were playing last time I was here? With the hats?? I wanted to try it.”

“Oh, um, the disc for it is-- that one--” You pointed to it on the TV stand.

Plight swapped the discs before coming back to the couch. He adjusted his position so he was more or less laying down. He opened his arms and motioned for you to join him. You curled up on top of him and he draped a blanket over you. Laying on people wasn’t that comfy at all, for _either_ person, but it was close and warm which was good enough. That… also meant you became a professional controller rest. Some sacrifices had to be made for the sake of love.

“Okay, you gotta tell me where all the secrets are. And tell me how bosses work. Because I have _zero_ clue. And why is their world round? What’s all the round-ness for? It’s not even a disc.”

“The Author wrote a single fantasy book that took place on a spherical world and everyone just thought it was cool or something.” You yawned. “I think it’s just rock in there? Kinda like if you dig down far enough here there’s just. Rock.”

“Can you dig _through_ it, though? Like, would you come out the other side? And what about doing that _here_?”

“I think you’d just fall into the void _here_ but I could ask Cedric about it next time I see him. And technically you would end up at the other side of a planet because gravity works from the centre of the planet outward, not straight down like it does for us.” Thinking hurt. Why were you doing it.

“What if on the underside of _this_ disc there’s like. A shadow realm that has dark versions of ourselves living there?” Plight put the controller down and stared at the ceiling. You propped yourself up on an arm to stare at him with bewildered eyes, before shaking your head and laying back down. “Hey!! It’s not like we’d ever know unless we like, went there!!”

“There’s already a series about that? From what I remember, there’s a character kind of like you and he inexplicably is a demon who does paperwork and stuff for the main character.”

“Is he cute? I hope he’s cute.”

“I mean, if he’s actually based off of you he has to be. I have the books around here somewhere, you can borrow them.”

The conversation dwindled as he ran through the game’s tutorial, only picking up to ask questions about it or talk about more ‘round world’ theories. It was getting late and you didn’t plan on moving any time soon. Between being warm, snuggled, and the pleasant sound of Plight humming along to the soundtrack, you fell asleep there. You weren’t disturbed until he reached the first boss, where after what you could only assume was a consecutive death, he paused and hugged you, sighing.

“Hey hon?” He stroked your hair.

“Eh?” You half-opened an eye. The room was bright, though, and you shut it tight again.

“I can carry you to bed if you want.”

“Only if you’re going to bed, too.” You squeezed him with all the strength your noodle arms could muster.

“Ah… Are you sure?” He sighed and chuckled.

“Ye.”

“That’s fair.” He went back to his game, and you went back to sleep.

You woke up roughly twelve hours later in your bed, a little disoriented, the taste of morning and sick in your mouth, but rested. Plight’s spot had the pillows and blankets every which way but he wasn’t there. Frowning, you wrapped the comforter around you like a cloak and wandered into the main part of your apartment. He was standing at the stove and attempting to fry an egg, though his expression was somewhere between horror and true concentration. He turned to look at you and jumped.

“Oh, I was going to surprise you when it was ready, um, er, good morning!! Did you sleep well? Are you feeling any better?” He looked back at what he was cooking and quickly removed it from the burner, poking at the yolk with the spatula.

“I slept fine, yeah, and I’m a little better, I think.”

“That’s good. I wish I could stick around until you were back to healthy but.” He sighed, cracking another egg into the pan.

“Let’s just focus on the present for now. You didn’t have to do anything for me.”

“But I did, and I’ll do whatever I can for you. Even if it’s, unfortunately, just gonna be worrying and hoping you get better soon because work and stuff.”

“Me too. For, um, you.” You leaned your head on his arm.

“It’s all worth it. But, just to like, level with you here, if I catch your cold I’m going to be a _little_ upset.” He sounded so… Serious.

You laughed. “That’s fair, honestly.”


End file.
